


The Fact That It Was Self Defense Doesn't Erase Your Sorrow

by emrys (livingshitpost)



Category: Original Work, Unfortunate Circumstances - Fandom
Genre: Adulthood, Aged-Up Character(s), Alternate Timelines, Alternate Universe - Canon Divergence, Alternate Universe - Death Swap, Blood, Blood Loss, Blood and Gore, Blood and Injury, Blood and Violence, Child Death, Child Murder, Childhood Memories, Childhood Trauma, Dark Past, Death, Demon Hunters, Demonic Possession, Demons, Emetophobia, Emotional Hurt, Emotionally Repressed, Flash Forward, Flashbacks, Fucked Up, Future, Future Fic, Gen, Grief/Mourning, Guilt, Hurt, Hurt No Comfort, Implied/Referenced Character Death, Intrusive Thoughts, Knives, Major Original Character(s), Mild Blood, Mild Gore, Near Death Experiences, Near Future, Not Beta Read, Original Character Death(s), Original Character-centric, POV Female Character, POV First Person, POV Original Character, POV Original Female Character, Pansexual Character, Past Abuse, Past Character Death, Past Child Abuse, Past Relationship(s), Possession, Post-Traumatic Stress Disorder - PTSD, Psychological Trauma, Sibling Love, Smoking, Stabbing, Survivor Guilt, Trauma, Twins, Vomiting
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2017-12-18
Updated: 2017-12-18
Packaged: 2019-02-16 16:02:20
Rating: Mature
Warnings: Graphic Depictions Of Violence, Major Character Death
Chapters: 1
Words: 678
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/13057359
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/livingshitpost/pseuds/emrys
Summary: Katherine Elizabeth Mitchell deals with the death of her twin brother.





	The Fact That It Was Self Defense Doesn't Erase Your Sorrow

_"Elliot, you're scaring me."_

**_"It's not Elliot who's scaring you."_ **

She grips the steering wheel more firmly.

_"Please, Elli, don't make me hurt you."_

**_"You cannot hurt me."_ **

It's times like this she hates the most.

**_"But you can hurt_ him _. Is that what you want?"_**

She pulls over on the side of the side of the long, winding road and slumps in her seat. Her hands run over her face.

_"Let my brother go."_

_Her twin laughs, but it's not his laugh. It's dark and high and cold and cruel._

**_"I don't take orders from stupid little_ _girls."_ **

She opens the door and steps out into the cool night air. Maybe if she can just clear her head, she'll be alright.

_There's a knife in her hand and her brother is lunging at her. His hands are on her throat and she's struggling to breathe and before she knows it his grip is getting weaker and weaker and there's something warm and wet on her hands and she can feel part of herself dying in her chest and-_

She leans on her knees as hot, burning chunks of her last meal rise in her throat and fall to the asphalt below. Her mouth sizzles from the acid. She spits a few times, trying to rid herself of the taste. Her vision blurs.

_Questioning. A trial. Mourning. A funeral. The loss of someone she'd known her entire life and almost better than she knew herself, inside out and back again. The fact that she had killed him._

More vomit. It's mostly liquid this time. She's heaving on her hands and knees now. A strangled sob escapes her throat.

He'd hate to see her like this. She moves to push herself back up.

But he's not here.

She lets herself stay there for a moment more. Then she wipes her mouth on her sleeve and sighs, grunting as she lifts herself to her feet.

When she moves to get back in her car, here's someone in the passenger seat, waiting for her.

"What do you want, Johan?"

"To help you," he says, lighting a cigarette. "Duh."

She takes the thing from his mouth and tosses it into the puddle of vomit.

"Rude."

"You know my rules, Johan. I hate the smell of that shit. I don't want it in my car."

"Fine, fine." He puffs out his cheeks and sighs.

"Do you have a lead?"

"I have a little more than that. There's a kid in Connecticut who recently lost her parents in a freak accident. I think Father Dearest had something to do with it. I'm gonna scope it out tomorrow and let you know if I find anything."

"That's it?" She scoffs. "Wow, you're  _helpful_."

"No, actually, that's  _not_ it. I'm also here because you're my charge."

"I'm almost eighteen and legally emancipated. I'm not anyone's charge."

"Yeah, okay. Anyway. You're my charge until you turn twenty-"

(She rolls her eyes.)

"-and it's my job to keep an eye on you. Y'know, make sure you're okay."

"I'm fine."

"Obviously. That's why you were just puking on the side of the road. Of course. How could I possibly be so foolish."

Katie sighs.

"It wasn't your fault."

"I know, I know."

"But I know you're still blaming yourself."

"No shit."

"I get it."

"No you don't."

"Yes, Katie, I do. I've kept watch over six other kids, and none of them have made it to adulthood. I was supposed to keep watch over your brother. He was going to live a long and happy life, and parallel versions of him are doing that right now. Just . . . not this one."

They'ere both quiet for a moment.

"Things weren't supposed to happen this way, were they?"

"No."

Katie sighs and buries her face in her hands.

"But, Katie, those other versions . . . they miss you, too."

She curls in on herself in her seat, arms wrapped around her knees, head down.

She can't say she's not thankful for the blanket wrapped around her shoulders when she wakes up to the sunrise.


End file.
